


The Wrong Ground To Hold

by Ailis_Fictive



Category: Original Work, Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: BDSM, Boot Worship, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Episode Tag, Implied past torture, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Painplay, Rough Sex, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailis_Fictive/pseuds/Ailis_Fictive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An episode tag for the TV show <b>Barrayar</b>, as described in "Barrayar Expects That Every Fan Will Do Their Duty: Excerpts From A Fandom" .  See notes for details,</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wrong Ground To Hold

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Barrayar Expects That Every Fan Will Do Their Duty: Excerpts From A Fandom](https://archiveofourown.org/works/300734) by [Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels). 



> This is a slash episode tag for a TV show that doesn't exist, which should be all you need to know to read it. (Well, that and there are some warnings in the tags and end-notes; please check them if you need to!)
> 
> For last Yuletide, [Lanna Michaels ](/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels) wrote a wonderful modern-AU crackfic called "Barrayar Expects That Every Fan Will Do Their Duty: Excerpts From A Fandom", in which the characters of the Vorkosigan Saga are fans of a TV show (with occasional movies) called **Barrayar**. A number of the commenters said they'd like to read some of the **Barrayar** fic (and slash) she described. I agreed, and hoped someone would write it--but not me, because it's not the sort of thing I write. That was, of course, tempting the gods; five weeks later I started coming down with a story. Far more commentary can be found [at my journal.](http://ailis-fictive.dreamwidth.org/3034.html)
> 
> Many thanks to Lanna, for letting me play in her sandbox and for patiently beta reading (and discussing at some length) the result. Thanks also to my husband Liam, who put up with me living in this story for five days and asking him many strange (and mostly rhetorical) questions, to Sarah for the beta, and to Val, who knows why. If this makes sense, it's largely due to their patient help; mistakes are of course my own, and helpful critique is welcome.
> 
> Tip of the hat to [linman](/users/linman) for the title, from one of [Alys Vorpatril's Clerihews](http://archiveofourown.org/works/330602)

Varadar Tau was not healed enough to leave sick bay.  He knew it, the Doc knew it, even bloody Ensign Pen, who had arrived on an errand with the worst possible timing, knew it.

"-and I'll mend just as well in my _own damn bed_!"  He couldn't draw a full breath to yell through the pain in his ribs, but from the way Pen was pressed against the bulkhead, eyes wide, he'd made his point.

The Doc fought.  The Doc always fought, but he'd learned eventually that when Varadar Tau said he was going to leave sickbay, he left unless he was tied to a bed.  A couple of times, sufficiently provoked, the Doc had actually done that, but usually if Tau could walk, he could leave.

Thirty endless feet down the corridor, he was beginning to wonder about the walking.  Ensign Pen had a shoulder under his good arm and a slender but surprisingly strong arm around his waist, and supported more of his weight than he wanted to admit.

He was more than halfway, though, and going back would mean facing Doctor Cramer again, so he concentrated on keeping his legs beneath him and his weight reasonably balanced.  The palm-lock on his cabin was awkward, because it wanted his right hand, the one over Pen's shoulder, but they managed.

"Bed," he grunted, and Pen helped him into his own bunk--which, whatever the Doc said, was more comfortable than that damn bed in sickbay that adjusted every which way.

"Is there anything else, sir?" Pen asked

"No, no, just leave me alone."  The door was sliding closed before he'd stopped speaking.  "Lights out," he muttered, and then repeated, irritably but more clearly, "Lights out."  Blessed darkness fell--it was never really dark in sickbay, either, too many damned monitors, even when they turned off the overhead lights.

Varadar Tau slept.

*    *    *

He woke, sweaty and shouting, with a jerk that sent pain stabbing through his head, shoulder, and ribs.  

"Lights dim," someone said, and of course it had been the hiss of the door and the light from the corridor that had awakened him.  "Sir, you're safe, you're on Boat.  Vortalon brought you back."

"Lights full," he snarled, and then flinched against the sudden brightness.  When he'd blinked his eyes clear, he could see the body that belonged to the voice.  Sergeant Selig, of course...carrying a tray?

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"General Hazelbright's orders," Selig said primly.  "Lunch."

"Not hungry"

"General Hazelbright's orders," Selig said a little more firmly. "You eat, or I feed you."

"You can try," Tau growled, but he reached for the tray.

Selig set the tray on the table instead and came over to help him sit up and prop the pillows until he was almost comfortable.  Then he brought the tray over--one of the ones from sickbay, damnit, with feet so it could rest across Tau's legs, and little compartments full of soft bland foods. Nothing that would challenge his sore jaw or loose tooth, and nothing he wanted to eat.

He eyed Selig, who was watching him with a perfectly straight face and a glint in his eye.   _Bastard_ , Tau thought, and grimly removed the lid from the brothy soup.

When he was done he expected Selig to leave, but the man walked instead to the comlink and muttered briefly into it.  A minute later, the door opened again and Doctor Cramer entered with a bag and an air of malevolent disapproval.

Tau drew breath to protest, but Selig opened his mouth, and he said instead "Hazelbright's orders. I know. Get it over with."

The Doc was efficient but not quick, and not overly gentle. Tau hissed, once, when the Doc rolled him over to change the dressings on his back.

When he sat back up, Tau was trying too hard to catch his breath to grab the hand that snaked in to slap a medical monitor patch onto his chest.  He raised a hand to scratch at the adhesive--the damned thing itched--and caught Selig's eye. The General's aide bared his teeth in something that might have been mistaken for a smile.

The Doc glowered.  "If you do not take care of yourself, I _will_ have you back in sickbay."  Tau didn't need to look at Selig to see the small smirk.

"Scrapes and bruises. I'll be fine."

"A concussion. Two broken ribs. Your shoulder--"

"Scrapes and bruises, dammit."

The Doc continued to glower. "If your head feels worse.  If you notice any dizziness. If you see any sign of infection. You will report it to me. And you will wear that--" he pointed at the med-patch "until I say you can take it off."

"Fine."  After a moment Tau added, without making it a question, "Are we done."

Almost, apparently. The Doc left him with an assortment of pills, salves, and bandages, and strict instructions on their use--which he wrote down, after a sharp look at Tau's unfocused eyes. Selig left with the Doc, carrying the empty tray.  Tau was left alone with his thoughts and his aches, uncomfortable companions.

By dinnertime he had managed to give himself an unsatisfactory half-bath around the bandages and the pain, change into a set of clean ship-knits, and move awkwardly around the cabin until it started to feel like he belonged there again.  He was lying on the bed staring at the ceiling when the door opened. He'd expected this--had, in fact, expected it a half-hour ago.

"I'm not hungry," he said, without looking over and without much hope.  Selig probably had orders again, but he'd be damned if he gave in without an objection.

"Too bad."  It wasn't Selig's voice. It wasn't Selig.

Varadar Tau rolled up so fast that he put weight on his bad shoulder and wrenched his ribs. He had to sit, gripping the edge of the bunk, until the pain subsided enough that he could move and see. By then General Hazelbright was standing right in front of him.

"I was expecting Selig" Tau said faintly.  Hazelbright this close was almost overwhelming, projecting his air of command like a forcefield.

"Selig's eaten three meals a day on his feet or at his desk for the last week. He's off duty now."

Tau held his flinch down to a slight tightening of his lips.  He’d heard enough from the Doc about Hazelbright driving Selig--driving everyone--with even more than his usual ruthlessness.  They had, improbably, found and rescued him.  He ought to be grateful.

"You have a choice," the General said.  "You can eat dinner in the bed, in the armchair, or at the table.  You _will_ eat."

Tau eyed the table longingly.  The chairs there were not comfortable at the best of times--he didn't use them enough to have gone to the trouble of finding anything better--and he was fairly sure that the bars of the back would match a couple of the worst spots on his own back.

"Armchair," he said finally, and pushed himself carefully off the bed. Hazelbright moved with him, not touching but within reach.  Tau’s cabin wasn’t so much smaller than Hazelbright’s; it was ridiculous to feel like there wasn’t enough space.  Hazelbright had never been here before, though; he summoned Tau to his cabin, or took advantage of any small private space they happened to find. Having the General waiting on him, bringing him dinner, was so wrong it hurt, a burning ache in his chest entirely separate from the broken ribs.

The legs on those trays, it turned out, could be folded flat, so that it sat across the arms of the chair. It was still full of mushy things.

"Can't I have some real food?"

"For breakfast." Hazelbright had a tray of his own, though it held meat and a salad. He ate efficiently, movements precise.

"Bacon and eggs?"

"If you're good."

Tau swallowed hard and dropped his eyes, because Hazelbright could read them too well. This time, at least, the covered bowl held a thick, savory chowder, instead of noodles in broth.

He ate quickly, determined to be done with this so he could be alone again.

"I had a team out going through the debris," Hazelbright said abruptly. "There wasn't much left. Vortalon can be...enthusiastic, when he's upset."

"Yes," Tau said, because it was that or stay silent, and Hazelbright could read too much into his silence.

"Doc Cramer says light duty in two days, full duty in two weeks if you stay out of trouble."

Tau had to snort at that. None of them are any good at staying out of trouble.

"Boat didn't take any damage, did she?" Doc had assured him that she didn’t, but Doc would lie easily and well to keep a patient calm. Hazelbright wouldn’t lie to him.

"Not a scratch. We had a lively few minutes, though."

Tau tried to smile.  It didn’t work.

"That--" Hazelbright apparently couldn't find a word strong enough, because after a moment he said instead "You knew him, before?"

Here it was. He had trouble forming the words. "Yes. A very long time ago."

Lifetimes ago.

Hazelbright waited with the patience of a cat at a mousehole. Tau looked at his empty tray and refused to be stared into speaking. He'd watched Hazelbright do this before, use silence like a weapon, a weight, until it pressed out words. It had worked on him before.

It wouldn't work now.

"Well," said Hazelbright at last, "I have my share of people from the past I'd rather not see. I'm not sure how many of them would try to blow up my ship, though.  What did you do to him?"

Tau's eyes snapped up to Hazelbright's face before he forced them quickly down and away. Hazelbright didn't know. Against all probability, Vortalon had actually kept his mouth shut.

Tau did the same, and after a moment, Hazelbright sighed. "Well, this one won't be coming after us again. Unless someone else will want to avenge him...?"

"No."  It came out breathy, almost a laugh, and Tau swallowed and tried again. "No. He was...no."

Hazelbright gave him a hard look-- _if you're lying_ \--which Tau met, with some effort. Hazelbright nodded at last, and stood up to retrieve Tau's tray and stack it with his own.  "Do you need anything?"

To be left alone. But he wasn't going to say that.

Hazelbright wasn't leaving. He swung out one of the chairs so he could sit astride it, resting his folded arms on the chair’s back.

"Why didn't you say anything?  You just...went."

Tau was so startled that he looked straight at Hazelbright, mouth open. "I...didn't..."  He had no idea how to end that sentence. He turned the idea around in his head. It felt strange. _You could have asked for help._ He couldn't have, of course; there would have been too many questions he couldn't answer. But he hadn't even considered the possibility.

He risked another look at Hazelbright, who was still watching him, face expressionless.  Tau nodded once, in brief acknowledgment, and Hazelbright's lips shifted in a fraction of a smile. "Boat needs you."

Tau's hands clenched, and he closed his eyes, which only made the memory sharper. She'd been such a sweet little ship, much smaller than Boat, old and cranky and full of quirks.  And his. He'd had the acrid taste of smoke in his mouth for days--still tasted it, sometimes, in dreams.  He'd stopped drinking whisky, after, because it tasted of smoke.

Until a week ago, he'd have sworn he'd almost forgotten. Working with the military wasn't nearly as dull as he'd expected, and he had Boat, and a new crew who looked to him.

_And you left it. You left them. Again._

He looked down at his hands. The cuffs of his sleeves had slipped back, revealing the rings of scabs and bruises around his wrists.

Sudden movement made him look up. Hazelbright stood so abruptly that the chair spun and fell.

Hazelbright was looking at his wrists too. Tau tugged the sleeves back down and tried to fold his hands in on themselves.  He pressed back into the chair as Hazelbright advanced.  The General stopped and knelt in front of the chair, and that was so wrong that it stole Tau’s breath. He tucked his hands in farther, pressing his arms against his stomach. Hazelbright hesitated, and rested his hands instead on Tau's knees.

The bolt of fire that shot through him at that touch brought back breath, and speech, and something that shaped itself, after a moment, into rage.

"Don't touch me," he snarled. He'd never used that tone of voice to Hazelbright before. The General lifted his hands carefully away, but stayed where he was  He watched Tau with grey eyes that saw too much.

Tau held the rage close. It was warmth, and movement, and Hazelbright was too close, too low, on his fucking knees, looking up at Tau with a face that wasn't expressionless at all.

"Get out!" He couldn't look at Hazelbright's face, so he addressed the uniformed chest instead, and this time Hazelbright did draw slightly back.

"If that's-"

But he couldn't bear the words either, so he bit out "Leave. Me. Alone. Just go."

Hazelbright rose, moving stiffly, as if his ribs, like Tau’s, hurt. Tau closed his eyes and listened for the sound of the closing door.  Then he covered his face with his hands and cursed until he ran out of breath. When he looked up, the room was still empty.

He went to bed without bothering to pick up the fallen chair.

*    *    *

Breakfast arrived in the morning--bacon and eggs--with a blank-faced Selig, who dropped the tray without speaking and left.

By lunch, with the help of three painkillers and a stim-pill that did not come from the pile of bottles the Doc had left, Tau was able to make it to the mess. The crew greeted his reappearance with quiet pleasure, and he forced himself to smile, to nod a response, to acknowledge greetings with a few words.  He returned to his cabin with a thumping headache and sat down to deal with six days’ accumulation of paperwork.

The Doc relieved him of the monitor patch and cleared him for duty--with some stern warnings about over-exerting himself--the next day.

Hazelbright was always so controlled that it was hard to tell if there was any additional constraint in his movements around Tau. He kept a distance between them, though, none of the usual  casual, possessive brushes against hand or hip or shoulder, and he only spoke to Tau when it couldn't be easily avoided.

*    *    *

Varadar Tau found himself walking by Captain Vortalon's quarters three times in the next week, which was ridiculous. They were three decks down, on the other side of the ship from his own, and nowhere near where his duties usually took him.

The third time he realized what corridor he was in he stopped, cursed himself under his breath with the filthiest epithets he could muster, and set his hand to the door-pad.

"Yes?" Vortalon's voice drawled from the speaker.

"It's Varadar Tau."  He couldn't' think of anything else to add, but that was evidently enough.  The door opened.  He stepped in and let it close behind him.

Vortalon was sprawled in a chair, a drink in one hand, wearing an undershirt and uniform trousers. There was a vid on the opposite wall, paused.  Tau recognized one of the old blood-and-thunder Mountain historical epics that Vortalon watched endlessly and would talk about, just as endlessly, to anyone foolish enough to express an interest.  This one was about an Admiral...something; Tau had never been entirely sure of the man's name.

His mouth was going dry, and if he didn't speak right away he wouldn't be able to say anything at all.  He said, without preamble, "You didn't tell Hazelbright. Thank you."

Vortalon waved a lazy hand in dismissal. "I don't give the Old Man an excuse to get worked up if I can avoid it.  I prefer a quiet life."

Tau snorted a half-laugh, because if there was anything Vortalon didn't like, it was peace and quiet.  "Well. Anyway. Thank you."

"Think nothing of it, dear boy," Vortalon drawled, and Tau gritted his teeth.  He never hated Vortalon more than when he was coming over the aristocrat.  "Though if you wish to express your appreciation in a more...hmm...tangible fashion..."  The long mouth curled up in a lazy smile as he reached down to adjust himself.

Tau ignored the stab in his stomach, along with any reactions from lower down. He'd known from the moment he looked up and recognized the corridor around him--for the third time--where this was probably going to end.  Vortalon had never been one to shy from pressing an advantage--except with Ensign Pen, and Varadar Tau wanted very badly to know that story...

He forced his mind away from the young Ensign, back to this room and the beautiful man in the chair watching him with a soft smile and predatory eyes.

He took the two necessary steps forward, dropped to his knees--carefully, so as not to jar his healing ribs--and reached out. It was surely the lingering weakness of his injuries that made his hands clumsy as he fumbled with fastenings and cloth to free Vortalon's cock, only half-hard but still impressive.

He breathed carefully around the lingering ache in his ribs as he swallowed Vortalon all the way down, working with lips and tongue at the base of the cock until the hardening shaft pulsed towards the back of his throat and he had to pull back slightly. He began to suck, hands fumbling awkwardly for a place to rest. He didn't really want to touch the man in front of him but Vortalon's legs filled the space.  He ended up bracing against the arms of the chair, using the pressure to balance as he bent to his task.

Vortalon was, in this as in nearly everything else, entirely different from Hazelbright. The General pushed and directed, cupping the back of Tau's neck or grabbing his hair to move him into place. Vortalon laced his hands behind his head and smiled at the ceiling, evidently appreciating the sensations but ignoring the man on his knees causing them. Tau found this disinterest far more humiliating than Hazelbright's more ruthless use of his body. Beaten, bound, blindfolded and helpless, it was still always Varadar Tau who Hazelbright was with.  To Vortalon, he was only a convenient mouth.

He shoved away that thought, along with the tightening of his stomach and the throb of arousal in his own cock, folded uncomfortably in his trousers. He knew his own skill, knew he was good at this, and he worked with lips and throat and tongue until he was rewarded with a harsh gasp, and then a soft whimper. He worked to the point of discomfort and a little past, feeling his throat ache and his eyes burn. Then Vortalon thrust, suddenly, twice, hard, and came with a muffled growl. Tau swallowed the bitter seed, using his tongue in long strokes to prolong the pleasure, until Vortalon sank back into the chair.  Tau swallowed the last of it, sucked the head clean--which made Vortalon hiss--and allowed the cock to slip free of his mouth.

He looked up to see Vortalon looking down at him, lips parted and eyes nearly soft in the wake of his orgasm, eyebrows drawn together, hand outstretched. Tau felt the fingers across his hair and along his jaw and then he was on his feet and stumbling back, scrubbing the back of his hand across his mouth.  Vortalon sat forward and drew a breath, but if he spoke Tau didn't hear it . He was out the door, moving down the corridor and away as fast as he could between his dignity, the pain in his ribs and the erection, nearly as painful, between his legs.

He made his way back to his quarters, swallowed three painkiller tablets with a shot of ouzo, and showered until the hot water and the scrubbing made his skin burn.  Then he ricocheted from wall to wall, unable to settle to work, or to relaxation, or to his half-eaten, untasted dinner.  He considered going to the mess for something hot, or to the gym for exercise.  Neither option seemed satisfying.

*    *    *

The General's schedule was supposed to be confidential,but Boat had belonged to Varadar Tau for many years, and her computers obeyed him as readily as any other system.  He'd been right; there was a meeting this evening, and Hazelbright would probably go back to his quarters afterwards to work.

The palm-lock on Hazelbright's cabin knew Tau's hand--the General had programmed it years ago, though Tau would not have hesitated to override it.  Once inside, he set the corridor monitor to stay on until the next time the door opened.

It would be at least an hour before Hazelbright might be back.  Tau stripped, folded his clothes neatly, and waited.

It was much longer than an hour, and he was nearly asleep, when he heard Hazelbright's distinctive step in the corridor.  There were voices, too, and he had a moment of sweeping freefall panic to make a decision.

Tau knelt, carefully, in a place where he would be visible to the first person through the door but--possibly--not to someone behind him, or anyone passing in the corridor. He didn't think he'd ever been this brazen, but it was too late to change his mind.  He looked at the floor in front of the door and laced his fingers together behind his head.

"I understand Jerjerrod's point," Hazelbright was saying, "but I still think we have to make a decision--"

The footsteps, two sets, stopped outside the door as it slid open.

"--and we--" Hazelbright took a half-step through the door. Then he checked, and the feet behind him--they had to be Selig's--skipped awkwardly as the man tried not to bump into the suddenly immobile General.

"We can," Hazelbright said, in a completely different tone, "discuss this in the morning. Good night, Selig."

"Um. Yes, sir. Ah, goodnight." Selig sounded bewildered, but--oh, thank God--nothing else.  Selig's footsteps retreated as Hazelton stepped all the way inside and the door slid shut behind him.

"Well," the General said in a level voice, and then, more slowly, "well. This is...a surprise."  Tau's breath hitched, and he held himself very still, wondering if he had made a mistake. "A pleasant one," the General added, because of course he'd seen Tau's sudden tension.

The boots moved towards Tau, circled him, and he forced himself to stay still, breathe easily, and track the movement only with his eyes.

Hazelbright walked away, towards the high counter and the liquor cabinet. The bundle of folders he was carrying slapped loudly against the counter.  There was a sharp clatter of glass, and then a hiss--whiskey and soda.

He sat in the easy chair a few feet from Tau, legs spread in a disturbing echo of Vortalon's pose. Tau watched the belt buckle and the swelling below it, the strong fingers around  the glass and the light shivering off the ice, and then he realized how high his eyes had crept and hastily dragged them back to the carpet between his knees.

Hazelbright made a pleased noise and then said, again, "Well?"

This time it was clearly a question. Tau didn't trust his voice, and didn't know what he'd have said if he could speak. He moved instead, crawling forward awkwardly, hands still behind his head, until he was close enough to bend forward and press his mouth to the nearest boot.

The ice clattered in the glass as Hazelbright sipped. Tau licked his way up one boot to the top, and then worked down the other to the toe.  As he finished, Hazelbright’s hand tangled in his hair and tugged his face up.

"Are your ribs healed?"

"No," Tau admitted, because he had sworn, to himself as much as to Hazelbright, that he would not lie while on his knees. But... "Does it matter?"

Hazelbright smiled slightly. "Apparently not.  Stand up.  I want to look at you."

Tau had to use his hands to lever himself up, and he stepped back enough that Hazelbright could walk all the way around him.  He clasped his hands behind his back, feeling his shoulder twinge, and closed his eyes. He knew what the General was seeing--had looked at it often enough in the mirror over the last week. There were the old scars, thin and white, and the livid new marks on wrists, ankles, hip, back.  The bruises had mostly begun to lighten and fade, green and yellow and red and purple splotches ugly across his torso and legs.

Fingers brushed feather-light over his closed eyes, and he couldn't suppress the shudder. The hands continued to move, with slightly firmer pressure, across his body, finding marks old and new.  A few, Hazelbright had left himself.  The hands moved down his legs, and he squeezed his eyes tighter shut, because he could not bear to see Hazelbright crouched before him again.  When one hand trailed up his thigh to his buttocks, he shivered again, and then carefully relaxed.  One strong finger dipped to find ready slickness, and Tau heard the pleased "mmm" that made his stomach clench.

"Over the table," Hazelbright ordered.  The folded pile of clothes was on the table, and Tau could have pulled them over to make a thin pad to protect his hips from the edge of the metal.

He pushed the clothes away instead and leaned across the table.  The cold metal made his nipples tighten into sharp peaks and his cock twitch and bob against the table edge.

He heard the movements behind him--a step, the slip of leather against fabric--so he was not surprised by the belt landing hard on his ass.  He jerked, and bit his lip, but did not otherwise move.

It was easier to take a beating like this when he was bound, when he didn't have to fight his body as well as the pain.  His wrists were probably still too raw, though, and there was a sort of pride in the fact that he could make himself stay here, chilled and exposed, flinching only in slight twitches as the belt moved across his ass, down his thighs, and back up to his ass again.

He stopped biting his lip before he could break the skin and raise awkward questions the next day.  He turned his head to sink his teeth into the side of his arm instead.  He was making noise, now, muffled against his arm, as Hazelbright delivered one last, shattering blow and stepped forward.  The uniform trousers were prickly and uncomfortable against his throbbing, raw, skin, and it was only with difficulty that Tau prevented himself from shoving back against them, hard, so that he could feel the hardness beneath pressing against him.

He did whimper, hating himself for the sound even as he made it, when Hazelbright stepped back.  The air was suddenly cold on his hot skin, making him feel unbearably exposed.

"On the bed," Hazelbright said, and Tau jerked in surprise.  This  was not usual, though he'd been on the bed twice before, in the course of long evenings--

And then he heard a breath behind him and realized he hadn't moved yet. He almost stumbled as he shoved himself hastily up from the table, and saw from the corner of his eye Hazelbright jerk forward, then stop as Tau regained his balance and walked quickly to the bed.

Even the General's quarters were not large enough to boast an entire second room, but the bed was in an alcove in the back with a privacy screen blocking all but the small entrance. The coverlet on the bed was a Mountain heirloom, thousands of tiny pieces of rich cloth sewn together into a kaleidoscope of color. Tau reached under it to drag out the pillows, putting one under his head and using the other to prop his hips as he arranged himself face down.

He heard Hazelbright moving again; a short annoyed breath and cloth hitting the floor, then a scuffle and thumping that had to be the boots.  Hazelbright was beside the bed now; Tau could hear him breathing.

The mattress shifted as Hazelbright leaned in to pull Tau's arm over his head, and he moved the other one to match. Hazelbright adjusted him with impersonal hands, shoving his legs a little wider, adjusting the angle of his hips on the pillow. Finally the bed dipped under Hazelbright's full weight as he settled himself between Tau's legs and thrust in.

Tau had prepared, but that was hours ago now, and the penetration hurt, the burn inside matching the heat of his legs and ass against the General's cool skin.  He panted into the pillow and struggled to relax.  Hazelbright drew in a slow breath, exhaled, and pushed all the way in. Tau bit the pillow until the fabric started to give under his teeth, instead of screaming.

Hazelbright grabbed his arms and held them in place, hands two careful inches below the ring of half-healed scabs. The General balanced his weight between hands and lower body, the fabric of his shirt lightly brushing Tau's back in a maddening caress.

Teeth grazed the back of Tau's neck, and even the pillow could not stifle his cries.

"Not yet, boy. Not. Yet." Each word was punctuated by a thrust that sent a stab of desire from his groin to his throat, sharper than the pain in his ribs.

He lay still, fought to keep the orgasm at bay as Hazelbright fucked him slow and deep and steady. He bit gently at the back of Tau's neck and thrust harder.

"Now. Come." Teeth sank into the muscle of Tau's shoulder and he screamed into one pillow and thrust into the other and came in a white-hot wave, feeling the man on top of him spasm and the cock in ass his jerk and spit.

By the time he'd gotten his breathing under control and could move again, Hazelbright was up and dressing.  Tau started to roll to his side, then thought better of it as his shoulder and ribs throbbed.  He gathered his arms and legs together and pushed up onto hands and knees instead.

When he looked over, Hazelbright was still, hands partway through tucking his shirt back in, watching Tau with no expression in his face. Tau dropped his eyes, and Hazelbright deliberately finished straightening his shirt.

"Clean up," he ordered, with a gesture that took in Tau's body as well as the stained and creased pillows and rumpled coverlet.

Tau waited until he heard the scrape of the chair in the outer room before he moved again, pressing his lips tight against pains old and new. He tested his movement carefully and judged that the painkiller was wearing off, that he needed more, soon, and that his ribs were aggravated but not reinjured. Breathing hurt, but then, between one thing and another, breathing had hurt for well more than a week. Both shoulders throbbed with his heartbeat, old ache and new bite.

He showered first, careful not to make any noise that might be audible over the sound of the water.  There were clean sheets in the lowest drawer, and he stripped and re-made the bed, smooth and tight, as though he and not Hazelbright were the Academy graduate.  He smoothed the beautiful, absurd coverlet on top.

Tau went out to get his clothes with a towel around his hips, conscious of his foolishness but unable to make himself remove it.  Hazelbright was seated at the table with his shirt sleeves pushed up and the folders spread in front of him.  He glanced up as Tau came around the screen, then went back to making notes.

Tau's clothes were on the far side of the table, but he walked to Hazelbright's side instead, knelt, and rested his forehead against Hazelbright's thigh. The General didn't stop writing, but his other hand came down to cup the back of Tau's neck until Tau stopped shuddering.

As soon as Tau shifted his weight the hand dropped away, and Hazelbright didn't look up as Tau dressed.  As he crossed to the door the scratch of the pen stopped, and Tau felt the weight of the General’s gaze   He didn't look back.

For the first time in a week he slept through the night without waking and without nightmares.

**Author's Note:**

> Specific warnings: painplay, whipping, rough sex, implied past torture, BDSM that is consensual but not particularly safe or sane, a slightly dub-con blowjob (emotional manipulation, not in the context of an established relationship and not BDSM), and a lot of emotional shit. Please let me know if you need more specific details, or if I've failed to warn for something that I should have addressed; this is the first fic that I've written that needed serious warnings, and I'm not sure I've caught everything that should be flagged.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Blood Yet Must Flow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/606546) by [Ailis_Fictive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailis_Fictive/pseuds/Ailis_Fictive)




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